


What Kind of Man Loves Like This

by Em6347



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fake Marriage, It's For a Case, M/M, Oblivious John, Post-Season/Series 04, Smitten Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 04:41:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13228278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Em6347/pseuds/Em6347
Summary: The one where Sherlock marries John, and everyone and their mother knows that the "for a case" excuse is bullshit. Except John himself.Greg Lestrade just thinks they're both idiots (in love).





	What Kind of Man Loves Like This

 

John sighed, and tried again.

“We're not _actually_ married. I'm not actually gay. Sherlock couldn't be _less_ interested in marrying anyone. _This_ ,” He brandished the simple gold band on his ring finger, fighting the urge to pull the damn thing off, attack it with a hammer, throw it in the Thames (or maybe one of Sherlock's experiments would be more effective?), and be done with this whole business, “ _This_ is for a case.”

Greg looked sceptical.

“For a case? John, you've _both_ been wearing them around for a month already. I don't think, for as long as I’ve known the bastard, any of Sherlock's cases have convinced him to do _anything_ he considers an inconvenience. For any length of time.” John considered bringing up the time Sherlock dated Janine, but he wasn't really sure who's argument that particular incident supported, so decided not to mention it.

“The guy we're trying to fool has Sherlock-level intelligence. His Highness muttered something about tan lines when he threw the ring at my head.” Greg took another bite of his doughnut, looking thoughtful.

_Lestrade, thinking? Unprecedented._ John had no idea when he’d started carrying Sherlock’s moody jabs around with him.

“We are talking about Sherlock though. From him, that's practically a loving proposal.” John thought about all the times Sherlock's been surprisingly sweet: drug-free coffee at four in the morning; quiet lullabies when his nightmares woke him gasping; his endless love for Rosie. John reckoned Sherlock could have managed something nicer for a proposal, and not just from an intellectual standpoint.

(Sociopath his arse.)

Instead of voicing this - he wasn't even sure how he'd go about it - he said,

“Sherlock, loving? Not in this universe. Or the next thousand.” Greg ignored him.

“If this guy, Sherlock’s evil reflection or whatever, if he's as good as all that, won't he be able to just Google your marriage certificate, ceremony, reception?” John sighed.

“Sherlock conjured the whole thing out of thin air, digitally. Hacked everyone, you included; if you check back far enough online you'll probably find some message - that you don't remember writing, obviously - complaining about not being invited to the reception.” Greg stared, his coffee left forgotten about three inches from his mouth, then slowly lowered the cup. His face showed an expression of resigned disbelief, notable because he’d had to learn to ration his use of it since he'd met Sherlock, lest his hair step up its game and start falling out due to the stress.

“Let me get this straight. You have a marriage certificate?” John nodded. “You're _legally_ married?”

“Well, yeah, though technically we didn't actually _sign_ the certificate. Mycroft had a twenty minute, one-sided conversation with Sherlock, as far as I could tell basically telling him off for not ‘doing things the _right_ way’. I think Sherlock's purposefully leading him on.”

Greg shook his head; the nuances of this situation may have escaped him, but he was pretty sure something was awry with John's version of events. Call it detective's intuition. Or bloody common sense.

He opened his mouth to say _something_ to John about the glaring possibility he'd completely misread the situation, when Sally stuck her head round the door.

“We’ve got a call: double homicide.” Greg groaned, but gave her a one-handed thumbs up (the other hand was occupied with cramming the rest of the doughnut into his mouth), and she disappeared back into the office with only a friendly nod at John. Sally was on the scale between great and awesome ninety per cent of the time, part of the reason why Greg despaired so much over her behaviour in proximity to Sherlock.

Greg stretched and stood, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair, and across his desk John mirrored him.

“Cheers for the statement, John. God knows Sherlock's never bothered.” John smiled with pained understanding, and they spent a quiet moment commiserating over the whirlwind of _stressful_ impossibility that was Sherlock Holmes.

“No problem.” They shook hands, and Greg went to sweep from the room, but paused in the doorway.

“John, just talk to Sherlock about this, yeah? We don't want anyone getting hurt over this.” John shrugged.

“I'll try, but I don't think he's currently doing anything that could be considered life-threateningly dangerous, so I've got no grounds for argument. According to the _rules_ ,” He didn't physically make air quotes, but John hoped their presence was made clear by his tone, “Which I probably wasn't there to make. Mind, he probably - _definitely_ \- wouldn't listen even if it _was_ life-threatening.”

Greg just ‘hmm’ed. He despaired of the two of them sometimes. More often than not, actually.

“Greg!” He turned to leave (again), even as he made a mental note to keep an eye on the situation; he didn't like to think about the magnitude of the paperwork that particular lover's quarrel would cause.

“Coming!”

**Author's Note:**

> I found this on my computer (written in an attempt to recover from series 4) and thought I'd post it in search of inspiration.
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated, thank you muchly!


End file.
